My Best Thanksgiving Ever: The Great Thanksgiving Drink-All-Day of 2005

My Best Thanksgiving Ever: The Great Thanksgiving Drink-All-Day of 2005It was Thanksgiving, and it was 2005. Commie Mom, a longtime third-grade teacher at 61st Street School in South Central LA, had put a table heaped with construction paper and poster paints and magic markers in the front yard. I made a construction paper Indian Princess headdress, because Indian Princess headdresses weren’t yet the most wicked, terrible cultural appropriations in the history of US America. With my Indian Princess headdress, I wore a bitchen Pilgrim apron and a slouchy white peasant blouse that showed off my awesome knockers. Everything was wonderful.

What made it even more wonderful was that my mama had put me in charge of the liquor, and I did a fuckin’ bang-up job. I went to the fanciest mega-liquor-store and bought dozens of tiny airplane bottles of every premium gin. We took teeny, careful, delicate sips, sort of like a gerbil on a water bottle, as we taste-tested all of them and found our favorites. Suparna the Rocket Scientist liked the Hendricks. I loved the Millers. My mom liked them all.

Sipping on tiny bottles of gin kept us the perfect amount of toasty all day — portion control! a gin IV! — so we were just buzzed enough that as we gathered by the hearth, my mom taught us her friend Joanne’s secret to making men have sex with you, and that was to wipe your fingers along your vag and then dab your pulse points with your smeg.

We all determined that we were going to try this the first chance we got.

My little brother, whose birthday was Thanksgiving Sunday, wouldn’t stop bitching about his car’s lack of (a) a headlight and (b) tags combined with his (c) three warrants and whining that he was sure he would get popped by the dastardly fuzz, which he succeeded in doing later that night. He got arrested and went to jail — on the Thursday of a four-day weekend no less — and we all laughed and laughed.

And that is the story of my best Thanksgiving ever, the end.

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  • coozledad

    The smeg sounds like a good idea, and i’m sure your mom’s friend’s heart’s in the right place, but all any woman needs to get guys to have sex with them is, a.) respiration, and b.) isolation. c.) legs,arms, hands and feet are non-essential,but can’t hurt.A guy.

    • TheLifeSilica

      And b) is optional for some! (same for a, but Ew.)

  • coozledad

    Oh. I forgot the exception that proves the rule. For Republican guys the respiration part is optional.

  • andreamd

    Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Chanukah! Your story should be made into a Hallmark Channel film.

  • ShreditorsDesk

    That’s not a very happy ending at all!

  • gullywompr

    OK, maybe I *will* read HNTP more often…

  • glasspusher

    The delicious, creamy smooth aroma of a well lubricated vag was an acquired taste for me, but once acquired, wowza. Mmm.Did I just post that?

  • glasspusher

    If I do any drinking if I’m hosting turkey day, I save it until after the dessert is served. One sober person has to keep the food going.

  • Historicat

    wipe your fingers along your vag and then dab your pulse points with your smeg.Now I’m hungry again.